


Champagne and Carrots

by Aluxra



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Katherine Nightlight and an OC make an appearance, M/M, human!Bunny, that's about it really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1898811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluxra/pseuds/Aluxra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch hates social events. This one didn't turn out too bad.</p><p>Based on this:</p><p>http://textsfromrotg.tumblr.com/post/86520731522/720-im-in-a-corner-eating-carrots-and-drinking</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne and Carrots

**Author's Note:**

> One shot, doesn't belong to any of my other universes. I ship dark chocolate and I am not sorry about it.
> 
> Enjoy. ^^

To: Black

23:14

Having fun?

Pitch’s eyes flicked up, searching the crowd for signs of the smug Australian. Just because it was a text didn’t mean the tone didn’t come through with it. He would’ve much preferred to spend his night in his own apartment, relaxing, but no: the idiots who had somehow roped him into their little group of friends had dragged him to this house party and proceeded to ditch him to mingle in the crowd.

Pitch didn’t mingle.

He didn’t exactly blend in either, three years shy of thirty in a sea of eighteen year olds, the only other person close to his age texting him smugly from wherever he was settled comfortably. Pitch sighed, reaching over the arm of the sofa to the snack table as he texted back with his free hand.

To: Aster

23:18

I’m in the corner eating carrots and drinking champagne. I’ve hit a new kind of low.

The text came back almost instantly.

To: Black

23:18

How is that low? I love carrots.

Pitch snorted, shaking his head as he crunched into one of the sticks. The buffet table everyone had contributed to had seemed a good place to set up. He hated social events, floundered in them, so this at least gave the illusion that he was doing something rather than just sitting alone with his own thoughts.

To: Aster

23:20

Care to join me then?

He sent the text before he lost his nerve. Aster would make an excuse to decline, or invite him to join him wherever he was set up in the hopes Pitch would refuse, given his awkwardness around, well, people in general. Pitch shook his head and shoved his phone into his jeans, glanced at the clock hanging above the fireplace. He could leave. He should probably leave.

He bit into the last carrot stick, holding it between his teeth and let his head drop back against the sofa in frustration, closed his eyes and tried to block out the noise of conversation and bass-heavy music around him. He’d leave in five minutes, once he’d worked up the energy to move. He wasn’t expecting the brush of lips against his, the crack of the carrot as it was bitten off.

He snapped his eyes open, and Aster grinned down at him, leaning against the back of the sofa on folded arms, a half-empty beer bottle held in one hand.

‘Alright, Black?’ he drawled, chewing on the little orange stick between his lips.

‘What are you doing?’ Pitch asked dumbly, blinking up at Aster. Aster swallowed, and hopped over the sofa with a graceful ease that Pitch envied, dropping onto the seat beside Pitch and swinging his arm around Pitch’s shoulders casually.

‘Joining you, o’course,’ he said with a smile. He took a swig from his bottle and stretched his legs out, mindful of the group of girls tottering past in skyscraper heels, shiny, chunky jewellery adorning their arms and throats and fingers. They giggled together, eyeing them as they passed and Pitch tried not to fidget. He stuck out painfully, especially with Aster sitting beside him for comparison: bony and pointy-faced opposed to tanned, athletic and handsome, practically the eternal athlete. He was the only other mature student in their group; close enough to Pitch’s age and his complete opposite. It was easy to see why Pitch was the outsider.

Pitch ran his fingers across his lips, still tingling from when Aster had brushed across them. ‘Why?’

‘You asked me to,’ Aster replied, shrugging. ‘Not enjoying yersel’?’

‘It’s... not what I usually do.’

‘And what do you usually do, off in those worlds of yours?’ Aster asked, his bright green eyes fixed on Pitch. Pitch frowned, glancing out the corner of his eye at Aster, unimpressed. Aster was following his passion in art, Pitch following his in creative writing and for some reason it was a point of comparison and competition between them that neither were particularly sure in its source.

‘Most likely the same thing you do when you go off in yours,’ he said, shrugging. ‘Make shit up and call it genius.’

Aster snorted. ‘Yeah, that about sums it up: what’s wrong wi’ yer lips?’

‘Hmm?’ Pitch hummed, and quickly dropped his fingers to his lap from where he had been running them across his lips unwittingly. He shifted in aster’s one arm embrace, not moving to escape but not leaning in closer. ‘Nothing. Sorry.’

‘Nothin’ ta be sorry for,’ Aster replied, downing the rest of his beer. ‘Ye’ve got nice lips.’

‘Shut up,’ Pitch muttered, blushing. He saw Aster grin out the corner of his eye, enjoying his discomfort.

‘Can’t take a compliment, Black?’ he teased, and Pitch rounded a glare at him.

‘Don’t let Jack hear you throwing those compliments around,’ Pitch warned. ‘He’s got a mean kick.’

‘Why would I worry about Jack hearing?’ Aster asked, squinting in confusion.

‘I thought... you and Jack?’

Bunny laughed, head thrown back in genuine hilarity. He looked around the crowd, craning his neck to look around and nudged Pitch in the side, directing his attention to the other side of the room. ‘Yeah, we’re real going steady here.’

Pitch followed his line of sight and spotted Jack sandwiched between a young man as equally pale as he was and an auburn haired girl in a bright yellow dress. Pitch stared at them, eyebrows hitched up as he tried to figure out who’s hands belonged to who before he realised what he was doing and looked back to Aster. Aster looked at him in amusement, and Pitch felt ridiculous for making assumptions.

‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ Aster chuckled. He suddenly leaned over Pitch, his body pressed against his, the smell of beer and his laundry detergent invading Pitch’s nose. He tensed, waited for Aster to retreat and when he did, it was with Pitch’s half-empty glass in his hand.

‘Who the hell brought champagne?’ he asked, sniffing it.

‘I don’t know, but the last three glasses have been enjoyable,’ Pitch replied, annoyed his drink was taken from him. Aster smiled, glanced at Pitch before he downed it in one gulp, pulled a face as he set the glass down.

‘Fuck me, how do you drink that?’

‘I like the taste,’ he drawled, rolling his eyes. ‘You and Tooth, then?’

Aster pointed wordlessly to the chair nearest the door, where Tooth was sitting in the lap of a curly haired woman, decorated in piercings around the full curve of her ear, through her eyebrow and nose. They were too busy absorbed in each other to pay attention to the world around them, lips and hands in constant movement.

‘Not her type, mate,’ Aster said. ‘She’s no mine, either.’

‘Oh.’

He couldn’t think of anything to say, lapsing into silence and looking around for something to do: he returned to his original idea of leaving, turned to say as such to Aster when a warm, steady hand cupped his cheek and Aster pressed their lips together firmly. Pitch jumped in surprise, relaxing a second later, the champagne and the electric jolt of the kiss creating a pleasant tingling sensation throughout his body.

He suddenly realised what he was doing, and pulled back. 'What are you doing?'

Aster shrugged. 'Kissing my type?'

'Oh.'

Aster laughed, his eyes sparking and moved in to kiss Pitch again. He leaned into the kiss and Aster’s arm wrapped around him, drawing him closer as he shifted and moved his lips against Pitch’s, his free hand sliding down his cheek, over his neck and dropped to his thigh, squeezing it gently. Pitch smiled against Aster’s lips, grabbing his shirt in one hand and pulling at him to move. They shifted till Pitch was pushed back against the arm of the chair, Aster half lying over him when the Australian pulled back momentarily, wrinkling his nose.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Carrots and champagne are not a good combination, mate, just fyi.’

An eye roll. ‘I’m not particularly fond of tasting beer and salty pretzels when I’m kissing someone, but you don’t hear me complaining.’

‘Touché,’ Aster grinned, and leaned down to kiss him again leisurely. Pitch wrapped his arms around his neck, settling into the sofa comfortably and decided he wasn’t leaving any time soon.


End file.
